


All-Encompassing

by fireweed15



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, F/M, hurt/comfort bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-10 02:08:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5564929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireweed15/pseuds/fireweed15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The disease claimed so many, but the grief she felt, felt far more reaching than even that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All-Encompassing

_Spring 1821_

Yao became ill quickly, within hours of Laima’s arrival in Anhai. Brutal waves of unforgiving nausea that gave way to the worst kind of stomach sickness—worse than anything she had ever seen before.

At least with other illnesses, there was a reprieve between bouts. This—no, this was something new and terrifying, where Yao could barely breathe or gather his bearings before vomiting again… and again… and again…

There were whispers of it—she and her brothers all had names for the illness that had gripped Anand’s homeland and spread to Arthur and a dozen other Nations. It wasn’t until the servants apologized for simply being unable to remove and clean the chamber pots fast enough that she was forced to look it in the face. _Holera_.  

••

As much water as she tried to give him, it just wasn’t enough. It wasn’t for lack of thirst—more than anything, Yao pleaded for water in a way that broke Laima’s heart—but for the fact that it seemed to do so little. She thought of the words she wrote in her journal a few days prior in a fit of frustration— _As quickly as I can give him the water, it’s expelled in some manner or another, but never in the way one should._

It was no surprise but frustrating all the same that for all the water he drank, it had no effect. If anything, the illness kept its tight grip on him like a monster. Every new symptom and pain was a talon, tearing him into smaller and smaller still pieces.

For all her efforts, Laima wasn’t sure what would happen when she wasn’t able to keep all of Yao’s pieces together.

••

Tea cups and dishes of water had long ago proven themselves useless, but Laima was determined to keep trying to keep Yao’s health from becoming worse. Besides, no one else who hadn’t fallen ill themselves had the patience to offer him spoonfuls of water.

Was this really the same Nation she’d come to visit just days ago? She considered him as he lay on the bed, propped up with ornate silks and pillows. His hair was stringy, unkempt from lack of care. His eyes (so much like the amber from home) were sunken and dull, and his clothes hung off his frame for all the weight he’d lost in the past few days.

He was a Nation—more than that, he was an Empire, and yet he looked so frail.

“ _Bù zài._ ” The words were so soft she almost missed them but for Yao’s hand on her wrist, pushing the spoon away. “No more, Songbird.”

For all her fears and worries, Laima couldn’t help but smile at the familiar address. “How do you feel?” she murmured, brushing his hair away from his face.

He managed a thin, weak smile. “Come lie down with me.” He patted the empty space beside him in invitation.

Laima set the water aside before shifting to lie next to him, her head resting on his shoulder (far bonier than she remembered it ever being). After a moment, he lifted his hand to stroker her arm with his thumb. “I will miss you, Songbird.”

“What do you mean?” She tipped her head back slightly. “Yao, is something wrong?”

The words earned a weak chuckle in reply. “No more than they already are.”

“What are you talking about?” She sat upright now, looking down at him, unable to help but notice how tired he seemed. “Are you going somewhere?”

His voice was soft, but stronger than it had been in the past few days, which only made the words all the more frightening. “I’m going to die before I heal from my illness.” 

“Don’t say that,” Laima pleaded. “Yao, please—“ She took his hand and held it as tightly as she could, as though she could anchor him to life. “Y-You’ll get better. I promise.”

“I’m not blind, Songbird.” He squeezed her fingers, as if in a bid to assuage her worries. “I know what’s coming—to deny it would be foolish.” He sighed, grimacing against a spasm of pain, then offered her a slight smile. “I won’t be gone forever. You know this.”

“I know, but—“ She reached up to swipe at her eyes, trying to stem the flow of tears. “Yao, I can’t—“

“ _Lái zhèlî—_ come here.” With what looked to be an immense amount of effort, he lifted his arms and allowed her to lean into the embrace. “Everything will be fine.” He turned his head to brush a soft kiss against her cheek, his breath warm against her skin as he murmured an endearment in his native tongue.

Before Laima got the chance to reply or ask for translation, she felt his grip slacken, and his breath no longer fell against her cheek. “…Yao? Are…” She pulled back, watching his arms fall to the bed, his head bowed forward as though he was asleep.

“Yao?” She squeezed his hand, gentle at first, then harder, trying to rouse him. When she received no reply, she laid him back down, pressing her ear to his chest, hoping and praying to hear—

Nothing. Not even an irregular beat that gave even the slightest reassurance he was alive. Was that it took for the disease to claim someone, even someone as strong as Yao had been?

The finality of it all sank in—slowly, and then all at once—and Laima did the only thing she could think to, hide her face in the silks of his clothes and sob.  He would come back, of course—as long as the nation survived, the Nation would, as well—but the loss, knowing that he’d slipped away so quickly…

If there was a cure for this goddamn disease, she prayed someone would find it quickly.


End file.
